


no more than friends

by dygonilly



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Beach club, Dancing, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hook-Up, M/M, Multi, Prolonged Eye Contact, Threesome - M/M/M, no sandy sex we take it back to the hotel like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25169140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dygonilly/pseuds/dygonilly
Summary: Hansol always waits so patiently for him to finish his thoughts—even when they’re fissured down the middle like a fault line and they come out jumbled and confused—he waits and he listens and he takes time to think about what he says before he says it. He’s not impulsive, by nature.It makes something red hot rear up in Joshua’s chest to think he would never do something like this without thinking about it beforehand.
Relationships: Chwe Hansol | Vernon/Hong Jisoo | Joshua, Chwe Hansol | Vernon/Xu Ming Hao | The8/Hong Jisoo | Joshua
Comments: 21
Kudos: 210





	no more than friends

**Author's Note:**

> another day, another tin of brain worms. i blame user pixiepower for these ones.
> 
> (title from Bonnie & Clyde by DEAN)

Hansol reappears from within the throng of people around the bar with three cups precariously squished together between his fingertips. He makes a distressed noise as his foot slips in the sand and a bit of liquid sloshes onto his wrist and Joshua laughs, too quiet to be heard over the music, but the scrunch of Hansol’s nose tells him he noticed anyway.

Hansol sets the cups down on the table beside Joshua’s elbow. “Dude I’m so glad we drank before we came. These cost me almost all my cash and I lost like, a year off my life waiting in that line.” He shudders and knocks the lip of his cup to Joshua’s with a smile that catches the UV light above their table. Joshua’s mind is already a bit addled from their pre-drinks and the sight of it makes him think of fireflies and icebergs, makes him wonder if Hansol’s mouth would taste the way it looks. He spent the time waiting for Hansol to get their drinks scanning the crowd, and everyone is beautiful, dancing and mingling, and most of the people he looked at were already looking back at him and the low-cut sides of his shirt with interest in their eyes, but Joshua couldn’t say he returned it. Not really. 

Hansol puts a silly voice on and says, “Cheers!” and Joshua echoes it on a laugh. He takes a tentative sip and recoils. 

“Oh god, what’s in this?”

Hansol looks into his own cup and shrugs. “I don’t know, man. I asked for rum but she said the daily special was more fun, so...” Joshua watches in awe and slight horror as he drains the entire cup. He splutters and wriggles like a worm then croaks, “Now you.”

If they were at home instead of halfway across the world, swaying under the pulsing lights and the heavy baseline of a beach club in Greece, Joshua would staunchly refuse and line up for a new drink. As it is, he has a duty to uphold the vibes, so he mutters, “Fucking hell,” into his cup, tips his head back and pours its contents down his throat in one go. He thanks the cheap vodka they passed back and forth in the hostel room for numbing his taste-buds, but it’s still horrible, and he splutters like Hansol had.

Hansol laughs. “Ah, you’ve got—” He reaches out and catches Joshua’s chin with gentle fingers. His thumb swipes across Joshua’s bottom lip, dragging just a little, and Joshua lets it happen, jaw slack, eyes wide. 

Hansol brings his thumb to his own mouth and sucks it like a chaser. 

His eyes haven’t left Joshua’s for a second. 

The moment stretches and snaps like an elastic, and then Hansol’s hand is in Joshua’s and he’s tugging them onto the dance floor. “Come on,” he says brightly, “I love this song.”

It sounds less like a song and more like someone is blindly hitting the percussion section of a soundboard, but it’s enough to dance to, so that’s what they do. 

As they dance, they pass the third drink back and forth between them like a game. It’s a little easier to handle in tiny sips, and eventually there’s only one more mouthful left. Joshua looks into the cup, considering, and then he looks up at Hansol where he’s dancing, slow, eyes closed and head tipped back, completely absorbed in the music. His hair has started curling at the ends under the weight of the sea breeze and the humidity, and there’s a gentle sheen of sweat on his neck that Joshua wants to hold between his teeth and roll around his mouth like hard candy. 

But they’re not friends like that. 

Nothing has ever happened between them but lately Joshua has been slowly running out of reasons why it shouldn’t; every day spent watching Hansol move under the Mediterranean sun; every time they lock eyes for a little longer than they usually would; it’s almost like there’s an excuse to be found somewhere between the empty spaces in their itinerary. 

They’re not at home. Maybe they can be different, here. 

Joshua closes the space between them.

“Hansol-ah,” he says. Hansol’s eyes open slowly and he watches through his eyelashes as Joshua brings the cup to his mouth and begins tipping it, slowly enough for him to catch on. He opens his mouth obediently, beautifully, and Joshua feeds him the last mouthful with one hand on the base of the cup and the other resting against the angle of Hansol’s jaw. 

It feels like everything narrows down to this, to the liquid spilling into Hansol’s waiting mouth and a few drops snaking down his chin—the feeling of his throat working under Joshua’s thumb, skin tacky with sweat and the sugary residue of the alcohol.

When Hansol finishes swallowing, Joshua shifts his thumb to apply the lightest pressure against Hansol’s throat. He drags down the bumps and ridges, slow and purposeful, and he revels in the way it paints Hansol’s face in surprise and something a little headier—the way his eyes darken under the ribbons of purple light. His mouth spells out _hyung,_ and Joshua reads it as, _please,_ tosses the cup at their feet, moves the hand on Hansol’s throat around to the back of his neck and pulls their mouths together. 

Hansol kisses Joshua the way he listens to music: like it’s the only thing that matters. 

His mouth moves slow and confident and it burns like the drink they just shared, white-hot fire licking in Joshua’s gut. He gets a hand on Hansol’s waist and tugs their bodies together, revelling in the solid weight of Hansol pressed up against him, all chest and shoulders and years of friendship suddenly capsized; reframed.

Between kisses, one of Hansol’s hands comes up to tuck Joshua’s hair behind his ear before he traces the shell of it. His touch is so gentle it feels intimate.It’s out of place, given the setting, the undulating bodies crowding around them—but Hansol has always had a gift for making you feel like you’re alone with him. 

It made Joshua uncomfortable, at first. Hansol always waits so patiently for him to finish his thoughts—even when they’re fissured down the middle like a fault line and they come out jumbled and confused—he waits and he listens and he takes time to think about what he says before he says it. He’s not impulsive, by nature. 

It makes something red hot rear up in Joshua’s chest to think he would never do something like this without thinking about it beforehand. 

Hansol starts kissing along his cheek and down his neck. “You stopped dancing,” he says into Joshua’s ear. 

“I’m kind of busy,” Joshua laughs, leaning away so that he can capture Hansol’s mouth again. He finds the wide angle of Hansol’s grin, but it melts quickly and they get caught up in it for a few moments, tongues sliding together, before Hansol’s hands move down to settle at Joshua’s hips, fingers tracing the waistband of his jeans. He uses his grip to sway Joshua’s body with his, riding the chaotic rhythm of the music. It feels good. Feels even better when Joshua moves one of his thighs between Hansol’s and feels him gasp right by his ear. 

They dance with their flushed cheeks pressed together for one song, half a song— it’s hard to tell with the way the DJ is flickering between sounds. Joshua lets the noise consume him. Lets his eyelids droop when Hansol moves to kiss his neck again, teeth catching, one of his thumbs pressing circles into the skin above his waistband. It’s hard to keep track of the bodies and faces under all these lights, but after a few minutes Joshua becomes very aware of someone watching them. 

He’d be lost in the crowd if his hair weren’t glowing like a beacon. It must be silver in the daylight; here, it’s a ghostly violet. His clothes are splattered in neons like somebody put a bullet in a paint can and he was close enough to become collateral. Long pants that pull in at the ankle. A shirt with the sleeves cut off and the sides dipping low enough for Joshua to see the delicate plane of his ribs as he moves. And he is—moving. Like water, head tipped back and eyes unfocused all the time he is not looking at Joshua and Hansol where they’re swaying a few feet away. 

Joshua can’t believe he’s distracted while Choi Hansol is sucking a hickey into his neck, but when the stranger locks eyes with him, it feels electric. Their eyes catch and release for the whole song. Joshua is the first to look away every time. 

When Hansol straightens up and seeks out his mouth, Joshua gives it to him. The stranger is lost to the crowd, anyway, and Hansol sighing his name across his cupid’s bow is far more interesting. 

Eventually, Hansol pulls back. “Water?” 

“Yes,” Joshua says, only now realising how much he needs it. He takes Hansol’s hand in his and guides them to the far edge of the bar. 

Joshua was worried that, once they escaped the pressure cooker of bodies and lights, something awkward might spring between them. But Hansol doesn’t shy away from him. Rather he leans into his side, plays with his fingers as they both take long drinks of water, keeps his beautiful eyes on any part of Joshua he can reach. They both giggle after a minute. It feels a bit unreal. Hansol’s mouth is swollen and his hair is messed up from Joshua’s fingers. It suits him, easy grin made easier by the blissed out stretch of his shoulders. 

While they finish off their waters, a beautiful boy with burnt-purple hair and a careless cadence to his movements dances closer to them, eyes sparking with interest. He flashes Joshua a sharp smile and looks him up and down before doing the same to Hansol. The hand Joshua had on Hansol’s forearm tightens like a reflex.

“Are you Korean?” asks the stranger. 

“Yes. Why?” asks Joshua, bemused.

The stranger claps, delighted. “Great! My friend thinks you’re both really hot but he was too shy to approach you and he can’t speak English very well so he didn’t want to embarrass himself and I mean, it’s really loud here anyway so I don’t think it matters since the whole idea is—”

“Junhui,” someone cuts in. The silver-haired boy steps around his friend and Joshua’s stomach flips. The lights by the bar are brighter, if only slightly, and they give Joshua a full view of his face: electric blue eyeliner drawn on sharper than a knife, glitter clustered around his temples, smudged all the way down to his collarbones. His shoulders are confident but his mouth twists like an apology. “Don’t listen to anything he says.” 

“I don’t know.” Joshua smirks, feeling bold. “I heard him say you think we’re hot.” Hansol snorts quietly. The stranger’s eye’s widen. 

Junhui slaps his friend on the shoulder and smiles like a shark. “Have fun, Minghao.” He winks at Hansol and Joshua and then he’s back into the crowd like he was never there at all.

“Minghao?” Hansol asks. He holds a friendly hand out. “I’m Hansol.” He nods to Joshua. “This is Joshua.” 

Minghao shakes his hand and lets go slowly, one inch at a time. He looks between them with a smirk. “Are you two together?”

Joshua grins. “Ask a different question.”

“Alright,” Minghao tips his chin up. “How long are you in Mykonos for?”

“We leave tomorrow,” says Hansol. This must be the right answer. Minghao’s entire demeanour shifts like a leopard stalking through high grass, crouching, quiet, body flat. Physically he’s much smaller than Joshua and Hansol, but he takes up so much space Joshua almost feels inclined to take a step back to accomodate him. 

“Anymore questions?” asks Joshua, snaking his hand up Hansol’s arm to rest against the back of his neck, fingers pressing in light but sure. 

Minghao grins at them, boyish and beautiful. 

“Do you want to dance?”

~

“Fuck,” hisses Joshua, head falling back on Hansol’s shoulder. Minghao takes him deeper into his mouth and Joshua risks looking down. He gets the breath punched out of his chest at the sight of Minghao on his knees on the hotel carpet. Hansol is pressed all against his back like a furnace, one palm flared out on his stomach under his shirt and the other holding his hip to keep him from bucking forward into the wet heat of Minghao’s mouth. 

They did dance. For a while. Long enough for Minghao to make it clear what he wanted. He pressed himself between them, his back against Joshua’s chest and his fingers hooked in the loops of Hansol’s jeans. He didn’t kiss either of them until they kissed over his shoulder, then he left a sizeable mark under Hansol’s collar and tugged on his bottom lip until he whined and Joshua started getting hard in the middle of the dance floor. 

Minghao waited until they were panting for it and then he told them where his hotel room was, like a queen making her final move on the chess board. “Junhui won’t come back until I text him,” he told them while he unlocked the door.

“You do this a lot?” Hansol asked around a grin.

Minghao looked over his shoulder. “No.” Then he walked backwards into the room and tugged them both in by the hems of their shirts and kicked the door shut with his foot. 

Minghao moved a little frantically but Joshua slowed him down enough to check in with everyone (mostly Hansol, shit, he can’t believe their night is ending in a threesome). Minghao pulled condoms out of one of the suitcases and then he pulled Joshua’s jeans to his ankles, and here they are.

“How does it feel?” Hansol whispers in his ear. 

“Good,” Joshua moans. “So— _shit—_ ” Minghao takes him into his throat and Joshua’s knees go weak. Hansol presses down harder on his stomach to keep him steady. He grinds almost mindlessly against Joshua’s ass and Joshua can feel his erection through his jeans. He’s imagined this, before. The positions are all different and the number of bodies is up by one, but the smell of Hansol’s cologne is familiar and the words he mutters right against Joshua’s ear are just as comforting as they are infuriating, pushing him closer to the edge. 

Minghao pulls off and jerks Joshua with his hand. “Are you close?” he asks, voice rough. 

“Yeah,” Joshua nods frantically. Minghao nods and puts his mouth back on him. Almost like an afterthought he reaches for the hand Hansol has resting on Joshua’s hip and guides it into his hair, and then Hansol is guiding Minghao’s movements on Joshua’s dick; Hansol is pulling him back so Joshua’s dick rests on Minghao’s bottom lip, tongue tracing around the head, and then he’s pushing him back down and keeping him there as Joshua’s whines get pitchy and frantic and he comes with a choked off sound into the condom.

“Oh my god,” Joshua gasps still seeing stars. 

“Yeah,” Hansol echoes, taking his hand back, a little dazed. Minghao wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and gets to his feet.

“I have an idea.” he says. He kisses Joshua, open mouthed and filthy. “Take your clothes off. Get on the bed. Both of you.”

Hansol laughs a little, but he follows easily, leaving one last kiss behind Joshua’s ear before pulling away. Joshua kicks his jeans off his ankles and ducks into the bathroom to pull off the condom and clean up a little. He catches his reflection in the mirror and barely recognises himself. His eyes are heavy and his skin is an artwork of teeth and lips and glitter. He splashes his face with cold water and goes back into the bedroom. 

“Oh,” he breathes. Hansol is spread out on the bed, naked, and Minghao is pressed up against his left side with his mouth on his jaw and his forearm hooked under one Hansol’s thighs, a finger tracing his rim. Joshua feels like he’s going to pass out. 

“Took you long enough,” Minghao says when he comes over to stand by the end of the bed. “Clothes off,” he says casually at the same time as he presses a finger into Hansol and Hansol’s back arches off the mattress. Joshua wastes no time. He pulls his t-shirt over his head and drops his boxer briefs. 

They’re both looking at him, eyes tracing the lines of his arms and stomach and his dick where it is valiantly trying to get hard again. Minghao looks hungry. Hansol looks desperate, hands flexing in the sheets. Joshua goes to him first. 

He drags a slow hand from Hansol’s ankle to his knee, up to the crease of his groin, up along his stomach and his heaving chest and finally around the side of his neck. Hansol surges up to meet him when he bends down for a kiss, whining when Minghao adds a second finger. “Hyung,” he sighs between them, brows pinched. 

“Yeah, I’m here,” Joshua kisses his top lip, “How do you feel?”

“Really good,” Hansol smiles, blissed out. 

“Are you ready for another?” Minghao asks, after a few minutes, kissing his shoulder. Hansol nods and Joshua watches his jaw clench when Minghao adds a third finger. Joshua peppers his face with kisses, licks a line down his neck like he wanted to at the start of the night. It feels like years ago.

When Joshua reaches for Hansol’s dick, hard and flushed against his stomach, Hansol shakes his head. “Not yet,” he says. “Wanna—I want to wait.”

“Okay,” Joshua says, easy, digging his fingers into Hansol’s thigh instead and revelling in the way his twists his features, gets him twitching a few inches up the mattress. 

When Minghao hands Joshua another condom, he hesitates. 

“You need a little more time?” Minghao asks with a grin. “You can go twice, can’t you?”

Joshua snatches the condom from his fingers. “Yes. I can.” Truth is, he thought Minghao would be fucking Hansol. It made sense. Minghao hasn’t come yet, only giving and giving for two people he barely knows. And Hansol is desperate and waiting and beautiful but Joshua thinks Minghao deserves a bit of attention, so he walks over to him on his knees and pulls their mouths together with Minghao’s chin held between his thumb and forefinger. 

“God,” whimpers Hansol, propping himself up on his elbows to watch them. Minghao holds Joshua by his biceps and presses their bodies together, rutting against his thigh. Joshua pulls back to spit in his palm and brings his hand between them, wrapping it around Minghao’s dick and swallowing the sounds he makes in response. 

Joshua guides Minghao back and forward with his other hand gripping his ass. Minghao moves like he’s dancing, like he’s perfectly in control of his body even when he’s building himself to surrender. 

Hansol meets Joshua’s eyes over Minghao’s shoulder and the look of open want on his face makes Joshua’s dick twitch against Minghao’s stomach. 

Minghao laughs breathily and Joshua feels his ears go pink, despite everything. “Ok, I’m good, c’mon,” he says, kissing Joshua one more time before nudging him back to move between Hansol’s legs. 

It’s been easy until this moment. 

Joshua rolls the condom on under Hansol’s watchful gaze. He never thought he’d be seeing Hansol from this angle: knees bent, stomach nudged into rolls, chest pink and gleaming with sweat, cock hard against his hip. There must be too long ofa pause. The silence must be telling stories. Hansol sits up and puts a steadying palm on Joshua’s cheek. 

“Hey, hyung,” he says gently, voice low and familiar and sexy. He smiles. Joshua smiles back, grateful. Stupidly grateful. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” Joshua says quietly. “I want this,” he adds, although nobody asked him that. Hansol’s eyes are dark in the lamplight. He pulls their mouths together and it’s the sweetest kiss they’ve traded all night. The mattress squeaks as Minghao shifts onto his back, one leg bent at the knee, watching them with sharp eyes as he slowly works a hand over himself. 

“It’ll feel good,” he says. “Trust me.” Joshua believes him. He kisses Hansol one more time before pressing at the centre of his chest, guiding him back onto the bed. He bends Hansol’s leg back a little further with a palm on the back of his thigh and positions himself at his entrance. Hansol swallows audibly when the head of Joshua’s dick catches his rim, and the moment feels monumental, but it feels right. 

Joshua pushes in slowly. Minghao watches his face as he does it, and Joshua watches Hansol, watches his throat bob and his stomach jump, listens to the noises he makes in his throat as Joshua stretches him open. 

“You’re doing so well,” he tells him, rubbing a soothing hand over his side. “Hansollie, can we touch you now?”

“Yeah,” Hansol pants, “please.”

Minghao wraps long, talented fingers around Hansol’s dick and the distraction is enough for Joshua to bottom out, hips pressed against Hansol’s ass. It’s been a while. The stimulation is almost overwhelming and if Minghao hadn’t already wrung one orgasm out of him he would be coming in seconds. 

He waits until Hansol’s body relaxes to start moving. He digs his knees into the mattress and gets one hand in the sheets by Hansol’s head and one hand on Hansol’s hip, gripping into his waist, pulling him in to meet his thrusts. 

Hansol, for all his easy silences, is loud in bed, and it drives Joshua crazy.

When Joshua presses their bodies closer, chest to hips, and starts rolling his hips instead of thrusting, Hansol whimpers and winds his arms around Joshua’s back to grip at his shoulders. “Shua-hyung, I’m not—shit,” he hiccups, when Joshua presses in particularly hard. 

“Not what?” Joshua breathes into his ear, grinning. “You close already?”

“Fuck you,” Hansol laughs. It hitches in the middle. 

Beside them, Minghao sighs, and Joshua pulls back to look at him where he’s lying stretched out like a cat, touching himself hard and fast, watching them. Joshua continues to leisurely grind into Hansol as he asks, “What do you need?”

Minghao shakes his head. “I’m good, I’m good,” he chants, back arching a little off the mattress. “Just keep going.”

It feels imbalanced to Joshua, like they should be doing more for Minghao, but Minghao looks blissed out and beautiful beside them, his arm brushing against Hansol’s with every thrust. Joshua keeps looking at him as he resumes his pace, and Minghao holds it. It’s intense. Almost too much, but Joshua watches the wave building behind Minghao’s beautiful eyes, watches his muscles coil and his mouth drop open as he comes, hardly making a sound, and he thinks he couldn’t have looked away if he tried.

“Joshua, speed up,” Hansol gasps in English, tapping his shoulder, and Joshua hadn’t even realised he’d slowed almost to a stop at the sight of Minghao coming apart beside them. He does as Hansol says. It feels desperate, now. Not that it wasn’t before, but now that Minghao is boneless and satisfied it feels like one less string to cut. 

Like it’s just them.

Joshua rests his elbows beside Hansol’s head and fucks into him like that, noses catching, breath hot between them. Hansol is everywhere. Joshua can’t believe he ever thought this moment would stay here, sun kissed and vodka-hazy on the shores of an island so far from home. It’ll follow him everywhere, he’s sure of it. Every time Hansol shows him a new song, every time he so much as smiles at him, Joshua will feel this moment like he’s pressing down on a bruise.

Minghao gets his hand on Hansol’s dick and Hansol throws his head back into the pillows, jaw clenched. “That’s it,” Minghao coaxes, “C’mon.”

Joshua speeds up until Hansol’s body locks up and he starts coming in hot spurts between them, all over Joshua’s stomach and Minghao’s artistic fingers. Joshua chokes on the feeling of Hansol clenching around him, the fractured notes on his tongue, a frantic mix of Korean and English that push Joshua to his own climax. He presses in deep, face buried in Hansol’s sweaty neck. “Hansol, oh my,” he gasps, _“god._ ” His hips move in aborted circles, body twitching through his orgasm. And Hansol holds him. Close, steady. Breathing out of sync in somebody else’s hotel room. 

“You’re good at that,” says Hansol, once Joshua has pulled out and moved away to let him stretch his limbs out. Joshua laughs. 

“Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Hansol says, smiling with his eyes. Joshua looks away first. 

Minghao comes back from the bathroom with a washcloth that they use to clean themselves, haphazard and a bit tired. He regards them quietly. “You know... if you’re not together, you should be after that.” 

His words invite a heavy silence, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it at all. Of course he wouldn’t—he doesn’t know them, the weight of the years. He can say things like this, all simple and straightforward, and he won’t feel any consequences.

Joshua feels like he’s going to burst into flames, still butt naked in front of his best friend and a half-stranger and confronted with feelings he hadn’t even fully realised until tonight. 

Hansol, as always, saves the moment. “Didn’t you say your roommate was coming home soon?” 

Minghao accepts the diversion with a smile. “He can come home when I text him. He’s done this to me enough times this trip. He could be sitting on the curb for a few more hours for all I care.” His words are harsh but the way he delivers them is gentle, and Joshua doesn’t know him beyond his body, but somehow it feels like Minghao cares too much to do something like that.

They get dressed quickly. There’s a bus going to their hostel soon and they don’t want to miss it. When they’re halfway out the door, Minghao taps Joshua’s shoulder. “You don’t have to say yes, but can I add you on Instagram?”

“I don’t have Instagram,” Joshua says kindly, “but he does.” 

Minghao brightens and hands over his phone to Hansol, who deftly navigates to his own profile. Then he freezes. He looks up at Minghao. “You know Kim Mingyu?” 

“Do I know... my roommate?” Minghao asks, and then his eyes go impossibly wide. “Oh.”

“Oh,” echoes Joshua, a little more frantically. Oh _shit_.

“I work with him,” says Hansol, smiling so wide it catches the moonlight. “So I guess we’ll be seeing you, Minghao.”

Minghao laughs like he doesn’t know what else to do. Joshua certainly feels the same. Hansol is the only one who doesn’t seem to be losing half their brain cells on the hotel stairwell. He checks the time and tugs at Joshua’s sleeve. “We gotta go. Or we’ll miss it.”

Joshua looks at Minghao one last time. He has one hand half-covering his face, his beautiful smile and blushing cheeks, and Joshua feels less freaked out and more hopeful, all of a sudden, that they might be able to meet again. “See you,” he says, grinning.

“Yeah,” Minghao says, shy. He offers them a tiny wave before disappearing back into the room and taking the light with him. 

“Crazy how things work out,” Hansol says as they walk to the bus. They’re quickly joined by haphazard groups of people spilling out of the bars and clubs down the road. In a split second decision, he pulls Hansol in close enough to kiss the corner of his mouth, and is rewarded with Hansol’s shoulder shrugging up to his ear.

“Yeah,” he agrees, linking their fingers together. “Crazy.”

**Author's Note:**

> did i read this through before posting? no! who do u take me for.
> 
> hope u enjoyed this, despite the cheesy ass ending. sorry for that. i will not apologise for the rest.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/dygonilly)


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